The Many Arcs of Jack Frost
by FrostyPhoenix
Summary: Like episodes of your favorite TV show, you never mind how many episodes there are. I hope this is how you view this in a sea of many other Rise of the Guardians stories. These are things that our Guardian friend discovers along the way of his life, whether they are his own redeeming qualities he uncovers from his time as a human, or new abilities that just might save a life...
1. Valley Forge1

**yo! My people! **

**Yeah, ah, yeah I know I should be updating the Stark Twins and The Little Guys and a Choice in Time–(all three of which are being written when this was not)- and I want to give cookies to all of my amazing followers and reviewers. **

**BUT! **

**I got this idea during History, and it stuck in my head like a Captain Jack Harkness to a TARDIS (you whovians out there will now understand how hard it was). **

**So I am starting a one-shot series! Requests will be taken! Crossovers are permitted and encouraged (if I know about the crossover subject)! **

**Without further adieu, I give you—**

_Valley Forge: Jack Frost_

That year was one of the worst Jack ever endured.

It was winter– he knew it was his time to bring the season. But it had just been a short few decades since he had woken up at that pond, and he still didn't have a good grip on his powers. Any strong emotions would still result in a blizzard.

He was flying somewhere above what he had learned was called the colonies. He knew there were thirteen, but that they only covered a small portion of this huge area of earth around him.

And for a long time, he'd watched people–humans, who could see and talk to each other– appear out of nowhere, far away across the flat ocean, riding the water in these massive wooden structures that had lots and lots of cloth at the top. He'd watched as the town-criers sent messages from a few people the colonists called The King, His Majesty, His Grace, King George, and a few mentions of someone called That Rotten Tyrant. The messages imposed taxes, which apparently made people lose money. Jack watched the events unfold, and resisted the desire to join in on what history would call the Boston Tea Party, mourned the losses of the Boston massacre, and tried to throw the red coats off the trail of Paul Revere as best as he could.

So by the time the war, he considered himself a Patriot Soldier in all respects except officially.

Jack had been traveling the winter with the Troops of General George Washington, who apparently was a pretty good commander. Unfortunately, he'd suffered several defeats against this well-funded army, and had retreated to a place called Valley Forge to train his troops.

If there was one thing anyone would remember about Valley Forge...it would be that it was the coldest winter if the war.

Jack knew it was his fault. Just by being around he could make a room colder. The men were all camped out in huts, trying shelter from the freezing weather, and Jack remained outside, staying away from the fires. Again, he knew that the chilly weather was his fault, but some stupid desire made him stay. He knew no one could see him, and that it mattered to no one if he left, but he couldn't bring himself to desert the army, as several already had. And besides, cold couldn't kill anyone...could it?

Jack was forced to watch as conditions in camp worsened. Soldiers got sick, and died. They died of starvation. They died of disease.

Then, he watched as Washington became his hero. The military leader brought in new men, strong different men, who yelled a lot and said things that made the half-frozen Americans rise and train. They'd run at sacks of flour if the men told them to, yelling fearsome cries. He watched as they got stronger, as they got better. Even Jack participated, wielding his staff like they did their bayonets and yelling until his throat was hoarse.

But it was still cold. It still froze. At this rate, Washington wouldn't have any men left. It began to dawn on Jack that he would have to leave if he wanted this war to be won and done—he was the reason so many men were dying. He couldn't take winter away with him, of course, but he might be able to lessen the chill. The best he could hope for was to find troops farther up north in the patriot-occupied cities, where the men could stay in warm houses and eat regular meals.

Jack could have just flown off. But something still wriggled in his stomach. He couldn't just leave- there was something in him that refused to permit it. He needed to tell someone. He needed to give a reason...even if no one even heard it. Making up his mind, Jack searched for General Washington. As the official leader, he would need to know why one of his soldiers was leaving.

Jack found the man sitting at the edge of the clearing around a small fire with a few soldiers as if he were one of them. The man was writing in a journal–or, at least that's what Jack assumed he was doing– Jack didn't know how to read or write. But the figures the man was drawing looked a bit different than actual 'letters...' Jack tore his eyes away. He had a job to do. He stood slightly behind the general, who was sitting in the snow, and slightly to the side.

He hesitated, "Sir," He started, playing unconsciously with his coat buttons, "I know I cannot actually talk to you in private—"

Jack's awkward start was cut off as the general suddenly stood, his eyes still on his work, and walked a few feet away from the warmth of the campfire and the chatter of the men, still intently drawing.

After a moment, a bewildered Jack followed him, and stopped in the same position.

"Sir," he tried again. Washington shifted in time, like he heard Jack; the boy held his breath, but the general didn't look up.

Jack released his breath. "Sir, I have to leave." He tried to ignore how Washington's head seemed to cock in an almost questioning manner; the man couldn't hear him. "I have absolute loyalty to the you, sir, and the patriot forces...but..." Emotions bubbled up inside Jack. Oh, why could anyone just see him?! Why did he have to do this, and feel so silly and helpless—and—and—not real?!

"Sir, I have powers," Jack suddenly said, coming out of his mouth in a harsh chuckle. He began to pace behind the general, his hands gripping his hair. "Powers of winter, and I'm making it cold. It is my fault your men are dying, so I have to leave."

Something in him snapped as Washington sat up straight—like he could hear Jack.

"I am just so _weary_, sir! So weary of being unseen, of being a ghost! I want to do something, I want to age! I want to be _real_, sir!"

With that, something in Jack seemed to release, to deflate. All the horrible fire that had just filled him goes out, and he sighed. He straightened his back and placed his hands primly at his sides, like he had practiced countless times. He sharply saluted Washington.

"Godspeed, sir," Jack whispered, and turned to leave.

"If I had known that, Private Frost, I would have approached you sooner."

Jack whipped around to face Washington. He watched with absolute shock as the commander turned to face him—and Washington looked straight at him.

Washington's blue eyes twinkled. "I had thought to leave you to your own devices, for I thought you wished for solitude. But I see my fault, and I take this opportunity to thank you for your loyalty, sir."

Washington saluted to a gaping Jack.

"And..." The man seemed to consider something, his head tilting. "And I have an offer for you, should you wish to stay."

"But..." The words twisted in Jack's throat, leaving him tongue tied. "How can you _see_ me?" His voice was a weak rasp, his knees felt like water. Surely, surely this was a dream?

"My grandmother often told me stories of an elusive boy with the powers of winter–she talked of how he protected her when she was young. Her name was Emma Overland."

_Emma Overland._

The name sung in his heart. He remembered the wonderful girl–he thought she couldn't see him, but he always tried to keep her safe from people who mocked her, telling her that she was a murderer! She was not!

"I have always believed in the stories, even as I advance in my years," Washington continued. "Yet, when I saw you arrive, I could hardly believe it. And now," He finished, "About the job I have for you–"

"I will do it."

Washington raised his eyebrows. "Are you certain? It will not be easy, and it will most certainly be dangerous."

"Sir," Jack stood straight and proud. "I will do anything for my country."

**What do you think? I know IM begging for death here, starting another cliff story. But just leave requests for any feels of your choice! Enjoy! **

**Review!**


	2. Easter Sunday1

**hey! I'm glad you guys liked ****_Valley Forge! _****It was fun to write, and while I'm continuing that and this new other Arc, here is my take on Easter Sunday of '68! I know there are a billion of these, but I hope you like it! **

**PS: For all you Stark Twins fans, I wrote a huge chunk of it today! **

It was warm- far too warm for Jack Frost as he crouched, panting, in Virginia. The sun seemed to be concentrating all it's energy on him, and he felt like he was melting.

An idea popped into his head. It would solve all his problems!

No, you're not allowed to do that. He chided himself. He pushed it down.

It bobbed back up to the surface like a cork.

He knew he wasn't supposed to make it snow during any season except his own. But he didn't want to leave his home by the lake just yet and head to Antarctica for the Spring and Summer. He felt as though something was holding him here, like a rope was tied to his tree here and the other end was knotted around his chest. And he was hoping, beyond hope, that it was the Moon, finally ready to give him some answers.

Maybe...maybe just a little. Just a little dash of frost, just so the temperature would drop just a few degrees, just enough for Jack to sweat it out and make it through the day. Plus, it would be better for the kids. And a layer of frost would look perfect on the brightly colored eggs! More kids would see them and believe In the Easter Bunny. I mean, Jack had never actually talked to the guy, but he knew he was real when he had seen him racing by, crossing paths with the winter spirit as nothing more than a flash of big ears and gray fur. Jack always called out, but the Bunny never stopped, only kept running. Jack had learned to stop feeling wounded. It was nothing personal, right? I mean, when you have that many believers you must be busy. So even though Jack had never spoken to him, he knew he was real. Just because you don't talk to someone doesn't make them not real. Right?

Grinning madly, Jack concentrated on his staff, calling his powers of winter. He sighed with relief when his friend the North Wind wrapped around him in its version of a hug. Carefully, very, very carefully, Jack commanded a thin layer of frost to creep gently over the glimmering colors, making them brighter and sharper. It was slow going, though, so Jack tapped a little deeper into his power and commanded the frost to go faster. It surged in him like an ocean wave, and so did the frost, thickening and shooting out farther in flowery patterns.

Elation coursed through Jack's veins. Finally, he had found a way to help! Something that would benefit both him and the Easter Bunny! And maybe it really was the moon holding him here, just so he could do this, and help, and meet the Easter Bunny, who would talk to him, an maybe...maybe...help him get believers.

So wrapped up was he in his own joy and hope that he at first didn't notice the dark, snow-heavy clouds that had began to roll across the previously clear sky. It was only when big, fat snowflakes began to drift from the clouds did his happiness turn to panic.

It wasn't supposed to snow! That was, for once, too much! Jack frantically tried to rein in the snow before it got out of hand, but to his horror, it only became thicker and faster, obscuring his vision. No! No no no! He tried to tell it. But it wouldn't listen. Jack could only stare as snow stuck to the ground, burying the eggs in their heavy powder. The temperature had dropped to below freezing. The kids couldn't even come outside. What have I done?

Suddenly, barely two inches from his foot, a perfect circle of earth caved in and a huge gray blur shot out of it, so close that Jack felt it brush his arm. Crying out in shock, Jack stumbled backwards, slamming into a snowdrift and turning at the last second so that his staff wouldn't be trapped beneath him.

He stared up at the gray blur. He stared up at the livid Easter Bunny. Jack gulped and opened his mouth, about to explain what happened, but the Bunny cut him off, snow spraying out from under his feet, stomping towards him with green eyes blazing.

"Whah' the hell is wrong w' you, eh mate?!"

Jack gawked. The Easter Bunny was... Australian?! And he said a bad word!

"Its bad enough I barely have enough eggs t' hide, but this is ridiculous! I have a job to do, a responsibility, which is more than you've ever dealt with!" He dew himself up to his full towering height. "I've got a reputation to keep up, mate!"

Jack's shame vanished, replaced with indignation. The part about him not having responsibility, he could take, because he accepted that was mostly true. But all this yelling and blaming (and cussing!) just for a reputation was ridiculous. Jack just wanted to talk to one person, was that so much! Plus it had been an accident!

Jack sprang to his feet, feeling uncomfortable heat rise into his cheeks."Oh, yeah?" He yelled petulantly, "Well then I'm not sorry it happened! And you— you're nothing but a— a— a big—!"

His argument was cut off by his own yelp when the Bunny grabbed two handfuls of his hoodie in paws and lifted Jack off the ground, his face wrought with rage as Jack lost his grip on his staff. "I don't care, you ignorant brat!" He roared, "NO ONE cares about you or anything about you! It would be better for this whole world of you didn't exist!"

The words stabbed the poor winter spirit like knives to the chest. But Jack didn't say anything back to that, just stared at the Easter Bunny numbly...because...because...

A horrible, awful wave reared in his stomach like bile, rising up in sickening horror and realization.

He was right.

Jack heard himself say something flatly and monotonous, something like, "You're despicable, for thinking you have the right to live. I hate you." He said it to himself, of course, not the the Bunny. These words were directed at Jack Frost, the horrible one that didn't exist. He hated Jack Frost.

So he was even more confused, but distantly, when the Bunny gaped at him in furious shock and threw him to the ground, Jack's head bouncing hard, too hard, against a tree trunk.

More than his skull felt broken now. He felt as if his spirit had been ripped right out of him.

Ignoring the agony behind his ear, Jack took off, dimly hearing the Easter Bunny yelling profanities behind him.

**So...you like? Should I continue? Or should I update Valley Forge next? Give me your thoughts! **

**Review!**


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